


The Night is Cold and Iron Rods Are Good Conductors

by Endriya



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Take it as you will, slight dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endriya/pseuds/Endriya
Summary: Set during the Maulland Sen campaign.Constatin Valdor goes to bed, and Ushotan of the Thunder Warriors decides to join him.That's it.There is no plot.
Relationships: Ushotan/Constantin Valdor
Kudos: 8





	The Night is Cold and Iron Rods Are Good Conductors

Nordyc, Terra, M30, before the Battle of Maulland Sen 

They stopped to rest the night in the midst of yet another ceaseless, howling storm of fine, powdery white born on the knives of the frigid air. It was cold outside, and inside as well, the ever pervasive chill knowing no boundary to where it would nest: in knife hilts, armour plates, and stiffened flesh and bone. It was so cold that the ragged ranks of the marching army could barely move forwards for the constant stalling that besieged them as their unfeeling legs stumbled over invisible contours in the land. It was so cold that uncovered limbs bypassed burning red entirely and went straight to bruised indigo, then black, then nothing. Some of the men grumbled that they might be as well to set their armour on fire, because then at least they would die warm. Some even meant it.  
And so, in midst of the blinding gale, they stopped and set up their encampment and hunkered down — not until the storm passed, for as soon as it did another would surely follow, but for long enough to put some warmth back into their bones as best they could, and to wait out the worst of the weather.  
A watch was established, those chosen to remain outside cursing their luck through teeth too numb to chatter while all others gratefully retreated to try their luck with fire lighting in the shelter of the tents. Released from his duty after several long days of unrelenting wakefulness, Constantin Valdor bade his master goodnight and retreated to the hab-tent that would be his.  
A fire had been started for him in the middle of the space and its attendants took their leave of his presence, ducking hesitantly through the flap in the treated fabric, out of the relative warmth of the tent and into the blizzard beyond.  
Sitting in the close space, Valdor stripped himself of his armour, grateful for the fire's warmth in the moment when he was left with very little covering him before he climbed into the fur-lined body sack that would keep him warm while he slept.  
Against all his conditioning, he found himself almost subconsciously snuggling into the soft warmth of the fur, the gentle caress of its silky strands light yet comforting on his skin.  
Reaching out, Valdor pulled his discarded clothing into his warmth, the better for it not to be frozen solid when he next had to put it on, and carefully squashed the embers of the fire, gently spreading and patting the ashes so he felt sure that, faced with the frigid climate, it would not rekindle while he slept.  
Outside, the wind howled itself hoarse and the cold bickered with the spirit-leeching landscape but in his hab-tent, with the remaining heat of the snuffed out fire finishing off its job as bringer of warmth, with a thick layer of heavy, impervious fabric between the inside and the elements without, all cracks sealed tightly shut and secured, with an insulating mat beneath him, shielding him from the icy fingers of the ground below, with the thick, enveloping hug of fur that encased his body, Constantin Valdor began to feel something a little bit like warmth. That warmth closed in around him, darkening the interior of the hab-tent to the gentle lull of the raging winds, so far removed from him now that they might only have whispered, as he surrendered to nothingness, his eyes slipping closed—  
The entrance flap ripped open.  
Jerking back awake and into the renewed chill of the world around him, Valdor turned his gaze immediately to the large, broad figure set against the backdrop of snow and icy sky.  
Ushotan, one of the great Primarchs of the Thunder Warriors, pulled a face that might have been a warm grin and might have been a leer as he let himself into the hab-tent, carefully resealing the entrance to restore the sanctity of the shelter from the storm and block off the awful outside. He brushed the snow off his cloak with cheerful unconcern for the fact that it fell inside the hab-tent, before sweeping the outer garment off of his shoulders and dumping it on the floor near the entrance flap.  
"Hello, Constantin," he said, his voice as coarse as it ever was, his manner coarser still.  
"Hello," Valdor replied.  
He watched carefully as Ushotan moved farther into the hab-tent, the primarch removing both his armour and the padded fabrics he wore underneath it as he did so.  
Ushotan prowled forwards, all the danger that clothed his kind like a second skin present in every step he took, in every twitch of the muscles in his arms and his face. The hab-tent was by no means large and he did not have to walk very far, but the time it took him to approach where Valdor still lay, swaddled in furs and deeply attentive to such details as where he had left his knife and how long it would take to retrieve it, seemed to lengthen with each passing stride.  
Eventually, Ushotan knelt down by the body sack, undid its vertical fastening, and slipped into the confined space. Wrong-footed as Valdor was by this action, the Thunder Warrior had managed to get most of the way in before the Custodian finally found what he wanted to say.  
"What are you doing?"  
"It's cold outside," Ushotan said. He sounded pleased with himself.  
Wriggling to do so, he refastened their now shared refuge before writhing around into a more complementary position, the stiff slabs of his gene-wrought chest and arm muscles pressing against Valdor. Ushotan hummed, snuggled up a little more, and reached an arm over the Custodian to shift his position to one more comfortable for them both.  
"It's cold outside," Valdor repeated at length.  
His chin jutting into Valdor's shoulder, Ushotan hummed again. In of the corner of his eye, the Captain-General could see that the primarch's eyes were half closed, his tormented face almost restful, for once.  
"I couldn't help but think of you," he murmured. "All alone in here, freezing your arse off. It's good to share body heat, in temperatures like this."  
He was right, Valdor realised. His brothers who were assigned to share this tent with him were all on guard duty, and would be all night. Although the hab-tent was by no means large, a night spent alone in there would certainly be sub-optimal in terms of energy lost to keep his body warm.  
"I see," Valdor said.  
But then, he thought, how did Ushotan know he was alone?  
"Knew you'd understand, Constantin," Ushotan told him, nuzzling his neck with a whiskery jaw. "Stick up the arse is all sorts of dreadful, but at least it's not a rod through the brain."  
Valdor looked at him, trying to figure out to what extent the primarch was joking, but Ushotan merely laughed.  
"Go to sleep, Constantin. Let us both rest. It'll be a long trek tomorrow, and the day after, and the next. Let's be ready to fight when we do get there, eh?"  
He had nothing to say to that but Valdor nodded to show that he agreed, turning his face away from the thunderous breathing of the warrior beside him and focussing his mind onto sinking back down into the heat that enveloped him, to darkness and security and finally, at the end of it all, release. 

Valdor woke suddenly, as he always did, coming at once to full awareness of his situation. There was coldness around him, the chill pervaded in the air rubbing its bony fingers against the uncovered skin of his face. He knew at once that to leave the body sack would expose him very unpleasantly to this chill. Within the sack there was warmth, both his own body heat reflected back at him and the heaving nexus of heat that was chest of Ushotan beside him.  
The Thunder Warrior was still, yet his warmth spoke for his livelihood, brushing against Valdor's nerves so harshly that it almost overpowered him. It was radiant and comforting, perhaps a little too hot but undeniably pleasant given the conditions outside. The Custodian found himself glad that Ushotan had decided to join him.  
Turning and dislodging the contact of his back with Ushotan's chest, Valdor looked at the primarch, who stared back at him with wakeful eyes. They did not move or speak for several moments. Valdor began to wonder how they were going to dress in such tight confines; to attempt to do so outside of the body sack would cause a great loss of body heat.  
"Even when you sleep, you lack personality," Ushotan complained suddenly, not moving from the warmth in which they were both cocooned.  
As ever, Valdor did not know how to respond to that.  
"Do I?" he asked at last.  
The Thunder Warrior cackled.  
"Do you? Yes, Constantin! Yes! No movement. No dreams."  
"I don't dream," Valdor informed him. "Not naturally."  
"You don't have dreams? Hm. That might explain a few things," the primarch snorted. "You don't know what a life you're missing out on, Constantin. Poor thing."  
Ushotan was a curious man, Valdor thought. He had such perspectives on life as were inaccessible to the Custodian, and no qualms about giving voice to them. The Primarch of the Thunder Warriors had such vivacity and spirit that it was almost hard to imagine that he had ever not been there, although such a time had certainly existed, and Valdor could recall it perfectly.  
It was time to get up, he thought. The warmth of the body sack was pleasant and the heat of Ushotan also, but duty was incessant. He would be needed soon, and he had blades to sharpen, armour to polish and a body to feed before then.  
Ushotan was still staring. His gaze, like the rest of him, was intense, an incendiary storm that burned its way through Valdor's core. Like the weather outside, his eyes were unrelenting but, unlike the storm, it was relentless heat that they held, which suffused all he looked at. Valdor was no exception.  
"Are you going to get up?" Valdor asked.  
Grumbling, Ushotan shifted but made no effort to remove himself from the sack.  
"Is it that time already?" he asked.  
"Yes," Valdor told him.  
Outside, over the now lessened shriek of the constant gale, he heard the faint noises of the camp stirring, and that instilled in him the anxiety that there were things he needed to do that he was not doing.  
"You must fetch your clothing," the Custodian said, nodding to the discarded fabric strewn over the groundsheet of the hab-tent.  
Ushotan sighed.  
"Do it again some time?" he asked as he began to haul himself from the sack, shivering in the cold air that occupied the tent.  
Valdor considered this.  
"That would not be objectionable."  
Using the renewed space available to him, Valdor began to dress himself, making sure to stay within the heated confines of the body sack so as to not expend unnecessary energy.  
"Pleasant even, some might say," Ushotan grunted in return.  
The Thunder Warrior had dressed in record time, no doubt due to the temperature, and was already buckling on armour plates. Underlayers in place, Valdor slipped out to join him in doing so.  
They finished dressing in silence before Ushotan opened the flap entrance to the hab-tent, inviting in the gale once more.  
"After you," he said, gesturing Valdor out, and so the Custodian passed through the portal from the relative — and rapidly decreasing — warmth of the tent and into the whiteness beyond.  
It was cold outside. The wind still sang its mournful song and bore on it freezing flakes of snow that quested for every crevice by which to creep into the warmth of any soul that ventured into it. The few fires dotted around the camp struggled in its ministrations, although they were most eagerly tended to by any soldier who felt they could justify a place by their warmth, and several who knew they could not. Both in and out of the firelight, faces glowed pink and fingers creaked on stiffened joints and, even in the invisible distance, there was no sign of the icy chill relenting.  
It was cold outside, Valdor thought as Ushotan went to talk and joke and roar with hearty, raucous laughter with his kin and as the Custodian split off from him to seek out his duty and attend to it most vigilantly. Yes, it was cold outside, but there was warmth to be found on the plains of Maulland Sen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Daz for proofreading this.


End file.
